I appear to be somewhat inhuman in farewells. Heathrow aiport, 2006, I’m hugging a set of Japanese students before they jet off home along with three other British hosts like myself. 2 weeks living in their homes in Yokosuka, 2 weeks of them living in ours, with lots of fond memories made throughout. The Japanese girls wept, the British students bawled, and then there’s me, side by side with my sister going, ‘yeah, we’re good. See you then’. It’s not that I don’t miss people, or that I’m not sad. I just don’t get so emotionally swept up, especially when there are tangible distractions such as catching a flight, refusing to give my umbrella as a souvenir, or convincing red eyed classmates from school that I am, in fact, not a unfeeling monster (I’m an entirely different kind of monster). This was much the case when Tee left Yokohama, who left so big a distraction, that I was thankfully spared any very hidden inner turmoil at his leaving until much later.
10:00pm, the night before
Breakfast at Tully’s. That’s the way to say goodbye. Spending the morning over coffee and croissants (green tea and miso soup doesn’t bring quite the same atmosphere), reminiscing the final moments away until the painful but heartfelt goodbyes. Ignoring the coffee (ugh), it sounded lovely. The deal is struck. 7:00am breakfast, 8:00am to catch the train. Hands were shook. Contracts signed. Tamu Tamu’s soul sacrificed to Quetzalcoatl.
11:00pm, still the night before
I have some slight trouble waking up in the morning, so I make a move to go to bed (sacrificing an additional two hours of midnight procrastination. There’s no greater gesture of true friendship). I pass Tee’s room and I notice with my keen senses, that he is lifting items out into the corridor.
“You haven’t finished clearing out your room yet!?” I ask.
“No, but I’m almost done” he lies.
“Would you like any help?” I offer.
“No, no. It’s all under control. See you in the morning” he whistles, while internally combusting.
I can’t see the same delusions as other people, much in the same way I can’t see how anybody can drink coffee, so I wish him goodnight and retire.
6:00am, Judgement day
I get up as fresh as one can expect from an insomniac who had the first 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep all month. I stroll out my room and everyone is already outside Tee’s room, ready to go. Except, there’s something sombre in the way they’re standing. I approach and they respectfully part to allow me entry into the ceremony. Heads bowed they surround the mountain of Tee’s life in Japan, a funeral to his temporary possesions. Atop them all, like flowers upon the coffin, Settlers of Catan mark the grave (the peak of this tragedy. Alas, never again shall there be wood for those lonesome sheep).
The door opens and a new bundle scrapes out to join the mess. There’s more to come. I share looks with the others and I feel the weight of the task. Tee has not packed. He has not thrown out his trash. He has not cleared out his room. He has less than two hours.
“Tee, you said you were almost finished last night?” I protest.
“Yeah, it’s almost done” he lies. Fun fact for future reference. Tee is a liar.
I lean forward and press my fingers against the door. It creaks open in the way you expect a monster to jump scare you from behind it (the unfeeling variety). I look inside and realise his door is not a door, but a portal. A portal to another world. A dark world, ravaged by war and consumption. A post apocalyptic wasteland of sweet wrappers, loose change, half packed bags and crumpled bed sheets. From under the bed I see Mad Max get chased by the Doof Warrior and the war party, seeking refuge within the empty Pocky box. Colonel Kurtz mutters to himself in the corner, hugging his knees as he shakes. Skynet looks on from the laptop screen on the desk and decides the best way to win is to wait it out. Tee stands in the middle of it all and stomps through the new ecosystem collecting more items.
“Give me ten more minutes guys”.
As with colonel Kurtz, all men have their breaking points. Tee has found his.
As the door closes, the Potahto painted across his whiteboard spreads the madness all around.
7:00am, Book of Revelations
We organise rapidly and efficiently, as desperation demands. We have more than a 8:00am deadline. At any moment, the landlady could emerge from blissflul ignorance and bear witness to Tee’s car crash exit. Some relay race to and from the bins. No time to check recycling (what is the environment but a pal who occasionally takes one for the human team?). Others sweep and clean. The rest lift luggage down two flights of stairs to be ready to go.
On my way back up to the room I run into the landlady. She looks past me bleary eyed at the two piles, one of half formed luggage, the other of mutating trash. It’s bad. Worse than when she woke up to find toy Koala bears sellotaped to walls throughout the building after the horse murderer left. I greet her a cheerful good morning, wait for her to respond out of bewildered politness and dash back upstairs.
Tee emerges from his room with a new rubbish bag.
“I know you guys think it’s late, but I still think we can make breakfast before I leave. You know, because – insert delusion here -“.
8:00am, Afterlife
I realised the Pharoahs of ancient Egypt might not have wanted to be buried with all their belongings. Perhaps they just couldn’t move out all their stuff to a new pyramid in time. We however were more fortunate, even if we sheepishly shuffled past the landlady with a few additional bags of trash.
We raced to the train station and made it through sheer willpower. In the blur of our speed we barely take time to see it. Tully’s cafe. The prize of the great game, inches out of reach. There was no breakfast to mark the occasion, little time for tears and emotional speeches. United together, we all wished Tee farewell, all of us sad to see him go disregarding the lack of tears. Dry eyed and exhausted, we all appear to be unfeeling monsters without our morning coffee. (ugh)
But unfeeling monsters like these have reunions to look forward to. Happier, less frantic and all the time in the world for potahtos and horrific beverages.
Sarcastic Poncho 